'A student until death'

Monk tends to monastery's bees.

Monk tends to monastery's bees.

May 22, 2006|GARRET MATHEWS Evansville Courier & Press

ST. MEINRAD, Ind. -- The Rev. Anthony Vinson's main job at the archabbey here is to oversee vocational development for the school of theology. But earlier this month, the 30-year-old man was the host beekeeper at a gathering of enthusiasts, doing everything from inspecting hives to explaining how the queen controls her colony by emitting a series of high-pitched sounds that come in loud and clear to her drones. "I had absolutely no background at this when I came to the monastery, although I've always loved nature," Vinson says as he adjusts the green veil that protects him from his charges. Benedictine monks receive assignments in addition to their religious duties. Vinson was asked to be the resident apiarist. "I think they did it to teach me patience," he says, grinning. "I was pretty stubborn." Vinson did more than just take on the job. He's built a sufficient knowledge base, and longtime beekeepers seek his advice on what to do about mites and whether using a pine-needle smoker is the best precursor to robbing a hive. This month, three dozen or so beekeepers and their families ate fried chicken, drank wine and bravely stood their ground as battalions of Vinson's bees buzzed the hillside. "Today is a perfect day not to get stung," Vinson explained. "Nice and cool with a gentle wind. The humidity of July makes them testy and, unfortunately, that's when I have to reach down in there and rearrange their living room." The young monk has a standard answer when asked about encounters with stingers. "How often does a painter get paint on him? If you work with bees, you're gonna get stung. I've been lucky and never had an allergic reaction. The worst time was when I got it on the lip, and the other monks asked if I'd been in a fight." One reason for the spring gathering of beekeepers is to trumpet the advantages of maintaining hives. "The more bees you have around a strawberry patch, the better the yield. Ideally, you'd have a bee operation every three miles." Their collection process starts at daylight. The bees come back with pollen on sticky legs that looks like they're wearing big woolly socks. Vinson figures he spends an average of four hours a week with the bees. "The bee house is my hermitage. It's where I read, pray, think and write homilies." The August harvest takes about three days. "The other monks can't wait. The honey goes straight from my extractor to the little pots at the kitchen table." Jerry Apple of Jasper, Ind., was one of the beekeepers at the archabbey's get-together. He's had hives for 49 of his 70 years. "The spring is my busy time because that's when I move my bees to strawberry patches. You start at 9 p.m., and it takes until 2 in the morning. It's hard work. When you get home, you need Advil." Apple is often called to remove hornets' nests. "I like to get $65. That's not easy work, either." Vinson hopes to be the archabbey's beekeeper for a long time. "You can draw an interesting parallel from it. A monk is a student until death. So is a beekeeper." The monk often works with school groups. "I tell them I don't use gloves when I work with my bees. Their eyes get big. I guess they think that's cool."